


A Very Winterhawk Valentine

by ccbytheseashore



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Drabbles, Kisses from Cupid, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, winterhawk - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 11:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9656105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ccbytheseashore/pseuds/ccbytheseashore
Summary: A 2017 Kisses from Cupid Winterhawk Valentine's Day drabble/short fic collection.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my very late start to the 2017 Kisses From Cupid Winterhawk Valentine's Day event! 
> 
> I want to thank [madetobeworthy](madetobeworthy.tumblr.com%22) for putting this together and fandom mom [mollynoble](%E2%80%9Dmollynoble.tumblr.com%E2%80%9D) for facilitating. You guys are amazing, and I'm super grateful. 
> 
> I also want to thank [littleredreadinghood](%E2%80%9Dlittleredreadinghood.tumblr.com/%E2%80%9D) for being my bestie, my gal friday, and my beta reader. You're the best, bestie. This is dedicated to you, obvi.

“Honey, I'm home!” Clint sang out. 

“'m bleeding,” Bucky slurred. He tried to sit up, but was hit with a wave of nausea. He tipped his head back. 

“Barely,” Clint snorted. Bucky heard the rustle of plastic bags as Clint set down whatever he'd been carrying, and then the mattress dipped. Bucky tried to roll onto his side, but a thudding had started in his temples, radiating sharply down his neck and shoulders. “Gonna live?” Clint asked. 

Bucky made a noncommittal noise. Clint had pressed a wet rag into his hand before running out for supplies, and he'd managed to wipe off most of the grime and dried blood before dizziness forced him to heave himself into the pillow nest Clint had built for him. 

“Got you somethin',” Clint said. The mattress creaked as he leaned over. 

“Better be morphine,” Bucky muttered. His forehead was damp, cold sweat beading on his temple. 

“Ungrateful,” Clint said, but Bucky could hear the smile in his voice.

Bucky cracked an eye open. “Did you at least find a med kit?” 

Clint upended the contents of one of the plastic bags onto the bed. Bucky glanced at the pile, and then at Clint's grinning face. Several packages of Cup Noodles, some plastic utensils, a few water bottles, a tiny blister pack of baby aspirin, and a box of Avengers Band-Aids. “Fuck you, Barton,” he muttered, closing his eyes and settling back into the pillows. 

“Weird lack of military-grade medical supplies down at the motel Qwik-Mart,” Clint said with a crooked smile. He picked up the baby aspirin. “Open up.”

Bucky sat up just enough to swallow what had to be the entire pack of aspirin. “Well, I'm not planning on dying in...” Bucky took a swig from the water bottle and paused, “Where the hell are we?” 

“You don't want to know,” Clint said distractedly from across the room. He started fussing with a cheap coffee maker that was tucked into an alcove by the door. 

Bucky gingerly ran his hand over the hard lines of the double bed he was propped up in. “Well, not gonna die on these sheets, at least.” 

“Not gonna die at all, you big baby,” Clint called from the bathroom, filling the carafe with water. 

“Gonna die someday,” Bucky said flippantly, casting a quick glance over at Clint, who had stopped whatever he was doing to look at Bucky, his eyebrows drawn down, a deep furrow forming on his forehead. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he walked over to where Bucky was laid up and snatched up the box of Band-Aids. 

“You are not going to die tonight,” Clint said firmly, punctuating his statement with a forceful tear at the box. Bandages fluttered across the bed and onto the floor. He took one and ripped it open. “I'm going to clean you up, then we're going to make some Cup Noodles with the coffee maker, because there doesn't seem to be a microwave in the whole of this stupid motel, and then we're going to eat it. And then we're going to watch whatever is on HGTV or... the Food Network.” Clint had stuck four Band-Aids across a cut on Bucky's forearm, and was tearing into the next. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were hard as he avoided looking at Bucky's face. 

“Stop talking about it so casually,” Clint said roughly. Bucky circled his fingers around Clint's wrist.

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly. 

Clint gently smoothed the Band-Aid he had in his hand over Bucky's cheekbone. “Don't think we have enough of these.” 

“I'll probably be better in the morning.” 

“You're gonna bleed all over the sheets.” 

“They're nasty sheets anyway.” 

“Aw, don't say that. I gotta get some sleep tonight, I don't wanna know what has or hasn't been on those sheets.” Clint continued plastering Band-Aids over Bucky's cuts and scrapes, gentler now that Bucky wasn't goading him. He was nearly through the box when the coffee maker clicked. He scooped up the Cup Noodles and took them to the alcove. 

Bucky leaned back and waited for the aspirin to kick in. It had been a long day, a long mess of a mission, and he'd be happy when someone sent an extraction for them and he could curl up in his own bed and sleep this off.

Clint came back to the bed brandishing a Cup Noodle in each hand. “It's not fancy, but it's hot. Can you sit up?” Bucky's back protested as he pushed himself up, but he accepted the cup and plastic fork gratefully and tucked in. 

Clint settled down onto the bed beside Bucky, shifting until their ankles brushed, tucking his bare toes under Bucky's calves. He balanced his cup precariously on his stomach and grabbed the ancient TV remote from the side table. “Alright,” he said brightly, “Are we having our meal with a showing of You Don't Deserve a Lake House, or...” he flipped channels until he found someone cooking, “My Six-Year-Old Could Make Better Cupcakes Than You?” 

“Eat before you spill something,” Bucky said. The warmth of the broth and Clint's solid presence beside him made the knot he had had in his stomach all day loosen. He nudged Clint's shoulder with his own. 

“Hm?” Clint hummed, his mouth full of noodles. Bucky leaned into him, letting his head fall against Clint's shoulder. 

.. .-.. --- ...- . -.-- --- ..-, Bucky tapped against Clint's leg. Clint took both styrofoam cups and put them on the bedside table. 

Clint smiled. “Sap,” he said quietly, and laced their fingers together.


End file.
